


Alive in New Light

by Katsitting (Nekositting)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dark, Deepthroating, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Ero Guro, Rape/Non-con Elements, This messes heavily with consent, Tracheotomy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 19:45:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13864725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekositting/pseuds/Katsitting
Summary: “I will give you what you most desire, Harry.”Riddle’s hand suddenly wrapped around his neck, fingers closing around his throat to press threateningly on his jugular. It was loose, no more than a brush of hot fingers on his neck, but Harry knew that that could change quickly.Without warning, without any announcement, Riddle could strangle him. Squeeze andsqueezeon his neck until all the capillaries on his face burst, until his mouth slackened with spittle and a dying moan.The thought was frightening.





	Alive in New Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darklordtomarry (das_omen)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/das_omen/gifts), [peixe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peixe/gifts).



> This is a prompt fill. Heed the tags. You should thank the lovely people I've gifted this story to for this. 
> 
> I really should stop taking these, but they're just so absurd that I can't resist. This is _fucked up_. Just saying.
> 
> Leave a comment if you liked it or to punish my friends for putting this into the world lmao.
> 
> Thank you vivy for betaing <3

When he awoke, it wasn’t the slow transition from slumber to awareness. No. There was no coaxing hiss murmuring for him to awake, for his mind to blink into consciousness and start a new day.

As it had always been since he’d moved out of his relatives place and into his own.

This was everything but. A gasp tore from his lungs, his limbs shook with exertion at being startled, awoken by a sharp sting that swelled at the corner of his jaw.

Eyes popped open, confusion and a swarm of anxious energy thrumming through his veins because  _ no _ , the last time he had ever felt this startled was when his relatives had pounded on his bedroom door, demanding that he do the chores—

“Good, you’re awake. You’ve slept for quite some time.” A masculine voice interrupted his thoughts.

Harry blinked, his confusion growing more pronounced when his surroundings sharpened. He didn’t recognize the place, the blurred edges of the lavish room unlike his own hovel and the decrepit place his relatives had forced him to live in for the majority of his life. 

“What?” Harry croaked, voice thin and brittle as he tried to make sense of what was happening. He didn’t  _ remember  _ this, didn’t recognize the voice or the strange black figure right at the end of the room. A shadow, a specter, Harry tried to make out more clearly, but realized he couldn’t.

He wasn’t wearing his glasses, he realized. That was the reason for the fuzziness that refused to abate. No matter how desperately he blinked, massive shadows danced along his vision. 

Fear quickly overcame the confusion, but when he tried to move, to do  _ something  _ other than laying on some soft cushion, he couldn’t move. His arms refused to lift, bound to something below his forearms that felt oddly like metal arm rests. His ankles were pressed into something hard and smooth, like the legs of a simple chair.

“Where am I? What is—”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be asking questions.” A smooth voice interrupted, and Harry’s heart began to race, the palpable threat in the man’s voice difficult to miss. His vision sucked, having had to use glasses throughout the entirety of his life, but Harry certainly wasn’t deaf _.  _

“You are  _ here  _ because I wish it. Alive and comfortable because I have chosen not to kill you.”

Harry swallowed, fingers clenching into fists when the shadow began to creep closer and  _ closer.  _ The muted colors of the lavish room did nothing to detract from the terror lodged in his throat, nearly strangling him as he tried to press himself as closely as he could to the seat flush against his back.

This was  _ wrong _ . There was no telling what this man would do, what this bastard’s intentions were. He didn’t know why he was there, why he was even picked for this. 

He was only a private detective. He wasn’t anyone special. Love affairs and bribery operations were his specialties—often the only thing he handled since he was not  _ real  _ police.

“You’ve stuck your nose where you shouldn’t have. It’s made my client quite... _ upset _ , if you will.”

A surprised sound fled his lips when the shadow was suddenly in front of him, the man’s towering height making him feel smaller than he’d ever felt. Harry wasn’t a short man. He was six feet. Just like all the men in his family had been.

“They placed an impressive hit over your head. It has made me quite  _ curious _ . You are careful about how you handle your dealings. Almost impressively so.”

Then, a hand was smoothing through his hair, fingers carding through the strands. It was as though the man were petting a cat rather than a human being, and Harry jerked his head back, cheeks coloring with anger and humiliation at being treated that way. 

It didn’t matter that he had no power here. He wouldn’t take this lying down. His parents had not raised a coward.

“What did you  _ do _ , Harry James Potter, that they felt the need to hire  _ me _ ?” The stranger breathed, and Harry snapped his teeth, a thrill running up his spine when the man quickly removed his wrist just as Harry was about to bury his teeth into the skin.

Harry was bound, but he would not  _ yield _ . Afraid, terrified of the danger this man posed, but not enough to lose his tongue. To give  _ in  _ was unacceptable. He’d rather die on his feet than on his knees, than give this man a show as he lived his final moments.

“I don’t know who hired you or what they told you about me, but you could take your bloody scare tactics and shove it as far as you can up your arse,” Harry said, shoulders straining as he fought furiously against his bindings, hoping that there was some sort of  _ give  _ somewhere. “Just kill me if that’s what they wanted. I don’t see why you need to ask me all these questions that I don’t even have the answers to.”

There was a brief moment where neither of them spoke, Harry’s harsh breaths the only sound echoing in the room. And then, the stranger was laughing. 

It was a high, hair raising sound. It made a nervous shudder crawl up his spine, his stomach quivering with an anxious energy that Harry did not wish to acknowledge. Fear would get him nowhere. He couldn’t afford to be afraid if he wanted to live, if he planned to get out of this mess somehow.

“A spitfire. I can definitely see  _ why  _ you so easily caught the eye of my client. It’s almost a shame I had not met you sooner...that we had not met under different circumstances.”

Harry swallowed at the mischievous note in the man’s voice, nervous when the man’s hand again returned to his hair, twirling a strand gently between his digits. 

“It would have been lovely to wrap you round my finger, to play with you before leading you unwittingly into my open palm. It is so rare to meet someone so willing to die for the sake of his pride. Others would already be quivering in their shoes at being told they would die.”

Harry huffed, writhing against his bounds until his shoulders finally sagged, spent. It was no use. Whoever this man was, he knew what he was doing. There was no give, no sharp object for him to use to release him. His belt buckle notably absent from the entire equation alerting him that this man had definitely been snatching and murder people for money for  _ years _ .

“And it is so rare to meet someone has narcissistic as you. Is this why you do it? Kill people? Because you are a pathetic,  _ lone—” _

A loud cry erupted from Harry’s mouth when the stranger pulled his head sharply back, and strong knees pressed against his parted legs, crowding him further into the chair. He couldn’t make anything out from the strange angle, his neck protesting furiously at being bent in such a fashion.

“Now now,  _ Harry _ , no need to be impolite. It is only my kindness that has spared you from an agonizing death so far.”

“Fuck you.” Harry hissed, and the man laughed, pressing closer until Harry was suffocated by the man’s presence, the sharp scent of cologne and iron strong enough to make him dizzy.

“Tempting, but I have something else in mind. I’m far more interested in that mouth of yours.”

And then, Harry was falling, his chair dropped several inches lower, until his legs were bent uncomfortably back into the chair. The heels of his feet were pressed against the bottom of the chair, knees bent further until it seemed as if Harry were lying on his knees rather than on a chair.

“You son of a—”

“You may call me Riddle,” the man interrupted, amusement and...something else thick in his voice. It made Harry’s stomach drop, a flush creep across his cheeks when a hand, the other clutching his head tightly, skimmed up his leg. The hand caressed his thigh, fingers trailing up his knee and nearing too closely to his groin.

A different sort of fear swept over him, one that Harry had never experienced before. This sort of thing just didn’t happen to men, wasn’t spoken of all too often in the back of his office while sipping tea. No.

Riddle’s insinuations, his words and his actions, were  _ unacceptable.  _ It couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be—

“D-don’t touch me,” Harry said instead, fear twisting within his innards with renewed vigor. He struggled against his bindings, tried to pry his head from Riddle’s unyielding grip, but there was no escape. “Keep your filthy hands off me.”

_ No. No. No. No— _

“Oh? How  _ interesting _ .” Riddle murmured, tone far too curious and lighthearted to be genuine. Harry was hyperventilating, heart ready to burst at any moment with terror. “You think you have a  _ choice _ .”

The drop in Riddle’s voice was the only warning Harry had before fingers were undoing and coaxing his fly open, and a hot palm forced its way to wrap solidly around his limp cock.

A weak sound fled Harry’s mouth, heat and humiliation burning his cheeks when Riddle leaned in to whisper something terrible into his ear. His hot breath was like poison, burning into the shell of his ear.

“My client would have me ruin you with the taint of death, but I can think of something so much  _ sweeter _ .” Riddle’s hand pumped his cock as if in emphasis, and Harry’s back bowed, knees quivering because the man knew precisely what he was doing. A thumb grazed the head of his prick, teasing the underside and his slit with an expertise Harry could not make sense of.

“Stop it!” 

“I’ve been watching you for some time. Waiting for the right moment to pluck you from your boring life and show you the true meaning of existence.” Riddle went on as if he hadn’t heard Harry speak, teasing and toying with Harry’s cock until, to Harry’s utter horror, it grew hard in Riddle’s grip. 

It was as if the man simply  _ knew  _ where to touch him, understood to a greater extent just how to squeeze his cock, to play with his head and stroke the flesh until it was oozing pre-cum.

“You don’t realize just how  _ lovely  _ you look when caught between the precipice of climax and denial. How I watched you take yourself into your hands, just as I am doing now. The names of older men and young women moaned aloud by your shaking lips.”

Harry clenched his eyes shut, hoping to drown out the sensations and the voice. But it only made it worse, only brought to the forefront of his mind just how  _ good  _ the man’s hand felt and how  _ wrong  _ it was that his body was reacting in this way in the first place. 

“But those instances were not the most shocking, no. They only grazed the surface of just  _ who  _ you are.” Riddle whispered, voice sly when Harry’s breath hitched and his hips ground unwittingly into Riddle’s hand for more, chasing after the orgasm Harry did not wish to have.

Riddle’s grip on his head tightened to the point of pain, and Harry’s cock swelled within the man’s hold, the smear of pre-cum making wet shlicks echo loudly in the room. 

Harry didn’t want to listen anymore, but the slow build of his belly made it impossible to ignore. The heat of those long, calloused fingers and soft lips pressed against his ear made it impossible for him to shutter away. He was there, in that moment. There was no escaping the reality of what it was that was happening, of what Riddle was  _ doing  _ to him all for the name of—

“Imagine my surprise when I saw you one evening, your hand wound around your pretty cock, while the other was wrapped around your own throat.”

A choked sound escaped Harry’s throat when a pressure began to build, the familiar heat and insistent jerk of Riddle’s hands on his cock forcing him nearer and nearer to his own release. Harry fought against it, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to  _ bleed.  _

But the iron taste was not enough to take the edge off. The pain only heightened the sparks of ecstasy shooting up his spine, only sharpened the pleasure and the steady beating of Riddle’s palm against his skin.

_ God, please don’t let me— _

“Do you remember what it was that you said as you were strangling yourself?” Riddle asked suddenly, tearing Harry away from the anguished thoughts racing through his head. 

“No _ — _ ” Harry began, but a rough squeeze around his cock made him choke on his words, made his insides curdle and writhe like a swarm of insects in his belly. The man had never wanted an answer to begin with, it seemed. Riddle was only interested in making him  _ suffer _ .

“I remember it vividly,  _ Harry _ ...” Riddle groaned into his ear, and then Riddle was twisting and pumping Harry’s cock viciously, as if what little restraint the man had possessed had snapped at the merest mention of that memory.

“Shut up!” Harry cried, the pressure building to the point it  _ hurt _ , to the point that Harry could practically taste his own release. A sob wanted to escape him at being forced into this, at being forced to relive the memories of his own debauchery when he had believed himself to be alone. But he didn’t. He  _ refused. _

“You said that you wanted to  _ choke  _ until the world ceased to make sense. Your pleas were exquisite, Harry, the bruises on your neck and the disappointed hum in your throat when you couldn’t fall into that abyss. It was beautiful.”

And then, just as the pressure on his cock became unbearable, his climax so close that it blended with the iron taste of blood in his mouth, Riddle pulled away.

Harry hated when he whined at the loss, when his hips jerked and his cock twitched at the deprivation of that heat.

“I will give you what you most desire, Harry.”

Riddle’s hand suddenly wrapped around his neck, fingers closing around his throat to press threateningly on his jugular. It was loose, no more than a brush of hot fingers on his neck, but Harry knew that that could change quickly.

Without warning, without any announcement, Riddle could strangle him. Squeeze and  _ squeeze  _ on his neck until all the capillaries on his face burst, until his mouth slackened with spittle and a dying moan. 

The thought was frightening. 

_ Exciting _ ...an intrusive thought murmured in the back of Harry’s head.

“Consider it a gift.”

The hand squeezed without warning, and Harry choked, body stiffening before his nerves began to scream. He struggled within the man’s grip, mind focused entirely on the sensation of his lungs protesting, expanding and contracting to let in the last bit of air he possessed.

It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough for him to stop the panic and the misplaced arousal from shooting up his spine, a Pavlovian response to the many times he’d gotten off to his own hand wrapped around his throat. 

The fact that Harry wasn’t willing, that he didn’t know this man, made no difference to the primal side of his brain; it didn’t stop his body from swaying, and his eyes fluttering open and closed with the absence of air.

He was dizzy, suffocating. He hardly noticed when Riddle released his hair, when there was the faint sound of metal clinking in the dark before something smooth and blunt brushed against his lips.

It smeared along his bottom lip, but Harry had no time to ponder as his mouth was coaxed open suddenly and something was stuffed inside, a something that felt oddly like—

Harry choked, the taste of salt and flesh thick on his tongue. It was Riddle’s cock, the hot flesh burrowing as deeply as it could go in his abused throat was his  _ cock.  _ Harry couldn’t believe it, was tempted to bite down on the skin as hard as he could, but the lightheadedness made it impossible to take control of his mouth.

Riddle was choking him everywhere, hand wrapped around his neck and cock in his throat. He couldn’t have bitten down on it if he tried, not like this. No, not when Riddle pulled out and buried his cock back into Harry’s mouth, uncaring of the way his teeth grazed his dick.

“Beautiful.” Riddle said from somewhere above him, his voice no longer a hot presence against his ear. When Riddle had pulled away to align his hips with Harry’s mouth, Harry couldn’t begin to guess. His mind had been addled, a mosaic of confusing thoughts when Riddle had been strangling him.

Harry’s eyes teared up, rivulets running down his cheeks when Riddle fucked his mouth, when the head of his prick ground into his uvula. It made him gag and sputter, it made him moan. Humiliation a burning emotion in the back of his mind as he was forced to  take  this.

Riddle’s hand was a suffocating weight, an unyielding presence that refused to let him  _ think _ , that refused to let him rest, not when Riddle cock slid along his tongue and Harry tasted salt and his own essence. Not when the wound Harry had bit into his cheek began to bleed, rubbed raw by the violent jerks of Riddle’s cock burrowing into his throat.

His blurry vision swam, eyes rolling to the back of his head when the world began to fade, when everything ceased to  _ be _ for a second. Riddle’s moans and praises hardly registered, the words like sighs and exhalations rather than the words Harry knew that should be.

And then, a sharp pain erupted from somewhere below his neck and precious air flooded through him. 

Riddle’s cock was buried inside him throat, almost to the hilt, but Harry could  _ breathe _ . He didn’t know why, he didn’t understand how this was possible. The man was obstructing his windpipe, cock thick enough to block even a sliver of oxygen from—

_ God, my throat. _

“Can’t have you dying, now. I want you to remember my hands on your skin, how my skin tasted on your tongue...” Riddle announced, tearing Harry from his musings before pulling back and slamming back inside Harry’s mouth. 

Harry’s head bobbed, body swaying with the ferocity of Riddle’s movements, unable to do nothing more than let himself be swept away, than allow Riddle to use him as if he were nothing more than a piece of flesh rather than a human being.

It didn’t matter that Riddle was whispering praises, that each time he said “ _ good boy _ ” or “ _ you’re doing excellently, Harry _ ” made his insides twist, cock unbearably hard even after he’d nearly passed out. Not when Riddle’s hand returned to his neck—unsure of when it was that Riddle had let him go—and a thumb pressed against the source of his agony, a strange point in his neck, something that felt oddly—

Horror exploded within him almost at the same time as realization.

“ _ Mmf! _ ” Harry’s muffled screams were endless, pouring through him like a narrative from a foreign movie that refused to cease. The realization was like poison, like a toxic sludge that crept through his senses and threatened to drive him mad. 

Riddle had stabbed a bloody  _ tube  _ into his trachea, wedged a piece of plastic into his neck just so he could fuck his mouth, just so he could make him gag on his prick until he grew bored.

Harry wanted to bite, but then, Riddle’s fingers were on his jaw, pinching it to the point of pain as if he could sense the direction Harry’s thoughts had taken.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. It would be a shame if I had to  _ punish  _ you.”

Tears ran endlessly down his cheeks, nose clogged and stuffy, mouth aching and stuffed full as Riddle continued to fuck him, a hand teasing at the incision in his throat. It throbbed, ached far more now than it had before when he hadn’t  _ known _ , when he’d been blissfully ignorant of the cruelty this man was capable of.

Without warning, Riddle’s foot was suddenly forced against his softening cock, stirring to life the flesh. It was sudden, enough to make Harry jerk and moan around Riddle’s cock.

It followed the length of his cock with unbearable patience, pressed and  _ pressed  _ until the flesh swelled, until the tell-tale pressure of arousal sparked to life low in his belly. The touch summoned the specter of his excitement, of the misplaced need Riddle’s hands had foisted upon him when they’d teased his—

Harry made a choked gasping sound when Riddle’s thumb suddenly covered the tube on his throat, when his cock buried itself deeper into Harry’s throat and refused to move. 

A thrill of something dangerous, of something  _ wrong  _ flared to life, and Harry wanted nothing more than to die. He didn’t want to feel this, he didn’t want this man to exploit his—

“Accept it, Harry.”

Riddle’s foot teased his cock, pressed and slid ‘round his head, and Harry sobbed, choking and suffocating when Riddle refused to remove his thumb from the tube lodged in his trachea, when Riddle began to move, his cock thrusting forward only seconds after pulling out. 

It was a brutal place, a cruel combination of sensations. It was all Harry could focus on, could think of. Riddle’s voice was in his head, his hands were on his skin, his foot on his cock, the man’s prick in his throat, tarnishing the various fantasies Harry had indulged in in the past.

So when the tell-tale pressure in Harry’s belly ruptured, when ecstasy and a choked cry erupted from his mouth, Harry’s mind blanked. 

“ _ Yes, that’s it. _ ”

White was all that he saw, edges of shadows and darkness swallowing the thrum of pleasure suffusing through his veins. It was a high, the suffocating sensation of Riddle’s thumb depriving him of air, of Riddle’s foot nearly crushing his dick, and his cock buried in Harry’s throat. 

Harry’s body slackened, mind screaming with horror. Disgusted with himself and with what he’d allowed the man to do. And Riddle didn’t  _ stop.  _

The man continued to fuck his throat, even after Harry had reached his own climax. Continued to praise, continue to compliment  _ him _ , as if this was something Harry was supposed to be proud of.

It didn’t take long for the man to come after him, however.

With a hard jerk, Riddle came in his throat and Harry’s mouth overflowed. The salty and bitter substance dribble from his parted lips and down his chin, and Harry spat most of it out immediately, mouth screwing with revulsion when he’d unwittingly  _ swallowed  _ some of the viscous fluid.

Humiliation burned. More than the pain in his neck, more than the realization that he was going to die.

“Kill...me.” Harry croaked, a cough threatening to wrack through him even after Riddle had stepped away from him, disappearing into the shadows of the room as if he’d never been. The man was like a ghost, disappearing as if he never was. Not even his footsteps had sounded in the room, and Harry was certain than the ground beneath him was  _ tile _ .

It was unsettling. Frightening to know that after all he’d suffered, that all he’d underwent, he would die with the man’s come on his face and his pants creamed with his own come.

Harry hissed when the light suddenly came to life and the room was bathed in brilliant color. He shut his eyes almost immediately, colorful spots dancing along his vision. 

Then, there were footsteps. A clicking of movement that forced Harry to open his eyes sooner than he wished to.

All the breath fled his lungs, shock quickly morphing into horror at the sight of the man who’d raped him.

_ Riddle. _

The devil came in the shape of the most beautiful man Harry had ever seen. Someone that looked almost...normal. Harmless, even, if Harry dared to use that word. This was someone one might overlook when walking home from a long day at work. A man that men and women alike wanted to impress, to  _ sink  _ their hands into for a night of passion or marriage. Even through his blurry vision, it was undeniable that Riddle was handsome.

Dark eyes speared through Harry, as if they wanted to tear open his ribs and take a peek at his insides. They undressed him, unmade him. Inspiring a strange feeling of suffocation that not even Riddle’s hands had been able to achieve. A purely psychological response to the power the man commanded, obvious in the way he dressed, and the way his body moved.

Riddle looked more a politician than hit man. He was impeccably dressed, after all. A suit and tie, hair coiffed and styled to perfection, with only a single curl out of place. It was not what Harry had expected.

“Not what you envisioned?” Riddle said, snapping Harry from his musings.

A sneer curled over Harry’s lip.

“You’ve got what you’ve wanted,” Harry croaked, swallowing a moment when voice broke halfway through his speech. “Just put me out of my bloody misery.”

Riddle froze. The air around him chilled, seemingly stilling of all life. 

It made Harry nervous, made his heart race as the man’s lips quirked into a smile, eyes flashing with an expression that Harry had no means of explaining. It was  _ terrifying. _

Riddle began to walk toward him. Elegant and slowly, as if he wanted to savor this moment, as if he  _ lived  _ for the terror even something like this could inspire in others. 

Harry tried not to seem as terrified as he felt. He refused to. He’d already been sullied and used. There could no worse fate than that. Death was inevitable. He couldn’t escape and he would sooner swallow a knife than grovel at the man’s feet.

Finally, Riddle stopped in front of him. He towered over his captive, hips level with his face.. Anger swelled within Harry, and he met the man’s gaze head on, refusing to yield.

His throat had a bloody tube in it, but Harry was not going to take this lying down. Not again. Never again. He’d die with pride.

Suddenly, Riddle crouched before him, their faces level with one another. A gasp rushed from Harry’s lips against his will, but, otherwise, he did not move. He wouldn’t let his surprise get the best of him. Not again.

A hand curled into Harry’s hair, similar to how it had right when this had all began, and Riddle’s face splintered. A vicious and cruel expression twisted his smile, made his eyes bleed darker than they already were.

Harry’s heart nearly stopped when he leaned in, eyes on his and lips grazing his own. The gesture made his lip tingle.

“Oh,  _ Harry _ , I am not going to kill you.” 

_ What?  _

A combination of dread and horror rendered Harry speechless. Confusion slowly melted into terror, realization like a gunshot in a silent building. 

_ No. This couldn’t be happening— _

“I have something far better in mind.”


End file.
